High, Cold, Silent, Alone

There's a high lake,
Held between three peaks,
Fed on snow-melt,
A dark mirror of the sky,
Too cold to ripple.

If you touched it,
If you climbed where only I have been,
If you saw what only I have seen,
In that silent hollow,
Hidden from the world.

If you touched those dark and trammelled waters,
Ice would spread,
A white flower opened,
Arms reaching distant shores,
You would make the water stone.

There's a lake,
High, silent, cold, alone,
I see it always,
In my mind,
It frosts my breath.